


certainly something

by ryuuzaou



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Except Yosuke, Featuring Rain as Best Wingman, First Kiss, Multi, especially souji bc hes a gollydarned lightweight the fool.... the fool, hes busy being insecure and saying 'yeah' too much, mentions of souji's shitty parents, mostly everyone is a teacher, some of the gang gets tipsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5883439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuuzaou/pseuds/ryuuzaou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Yosuke was a kid, he didn’t care what he’d be when he grew up. On Get To Know You fill-in-the-blank worksheets in grade school, Yosuke always wrote in something like ‘boss’ or ‘musician’ or even ‘at least 6 feet’ when he was feeling gutsy. But honestly, this isn’t what he saw himself doing.</p><p>Of course, there aren’t many kids that would ever write ‘cold-case detective’ on those dotted lines.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Or: The one where Yosuke gets a new job, a new roommate, a new social group, and assistance from the hotter-than-he-has-any-right-to-be history teacher at the local high school.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [CHANTING] NO ANGST ONLY FLUFF NO ANGST ONLY FLUFF NO ANGST ONLY FLUFF

When Yosuke was a kid, he didn’t care what he’d be when he grew up, so long as he was nowhere near Junes. On Get To Know You fill-in-the-blank worksheets in grade school, Yosuke always wrote in something like ‘boss’ or ‘musician’ or even ‘at least 6 feet’ when he was feeling gutsy. But honestly, this isn’t what he saw himself doing.

Of course, there aren’t many kids that would ever write ‘cold-case detective’ on those dotted lines. Hell, Yosuke didn’t know what a cold-case was until his second year of college. He’d been taking a Law and Criminal Justice class for the credit, and didn’t expect to get as hooked on it as he did. Due to the fact that the unit on cold-cases was disappointingly meager, Yosuke found himself spending more time in the library in a week than he had in the entirety of his last year in high school. He chose his major the next week.

Now, Yosuke’s never been the most motivated guy. In fact, he hardly gave a shit about anything when it came to school for years before he bunkered down to get a into a good college. It’s thanks to that (and a recommendation from Ryotaro Dojima, a detective from the small town he’d been from) he was able to get out of those hellish boonies at all. But with this, he actually _wants_ to try, _wants_ to succeed, be _good_ at it, not just decent. The satisfaction of digging, digging so deep it’s more stone than soil and solid evidence is few and far between, but finding the tiniest of connections and working, working, working until _there, just there,_ a solid lead, a springboard, and he’s doing a midair triple-frontflip and nailing the goddamn landing, 10 outta 10, five stars, gold medal, “I’m goin’ to Disneyland.”

When he left college, Yosuke was nothing short of terrified. What sort of place needed a cold-case detective anymore? But somehow, word of him got out, and he got a call from legendary Naoto Shirogane, a detective that his professor had mentioned with admiration. They were prompt, introducing themself as ‘Naoto Shirogane, head detective, please refer to me only with gender-neutral pronouns,’ before diving into the matter at hand: they had some personal cases, but they were quickly lost among the newer, more significant cases that were piling up, and they wanted Yosuke’s help. Naoto Shirogane, Ace Child Detective, wanted _Yosuke’s_ help. Sure, they sounded incredibly reluctant, but Yosuke had the feeling they’re not the sort of person to ask for assistance very often. Also, most people that asked him for help did so with at least a little bit of reluctance, so it didn’t really bother him anymore.

So he packed his things and travelled 4 hours by train to the headquarters where Mx. Shirogane worked, struggled with a hotel’s iron to get the infinite amount of wrinkles out of a suit he hadn’t worn since he was ditched on prom night, and strode into the tall, reflective building with much more confidence than he had.

The interview was with Naoto Shirogane themself. Yosuke was nervous, bouncing his leg the whole time, stuttering here and there, but Naoto’s calm, steady demeanor helped put him more at ease. They called two days later and asked if he could start the next week, and even recommended an acquaintance that was looking for a roommate.

This is where Yosuke stands now: at the threshold of a small house, tucked into a row of small houses identical to it. There are two boxes at his feet, and he shifts the one in his arms to free a hand to knock on the door with. Before he’s able to, however, someone throws it open.

The individual with impressive door-opening skills is none other than his new roommate, Teddie (“Short for Theodore?” “Don’t.”) Kuma. Yosuke had only spoken to him on the phone, and had absolutely no idea he’d be so… Well. Adjectives fail him for a few moments. So extravagant, perhaps? So chipper?

So obviously gay?

All three, probably.

(But mostly the latter.)

Yosuke had gotten over most of his internalized homophobia in high school (which was a  good thing, considering his own preferences), but this strikes him as just a little bit ridiculous. This kid is wearing a rose on his lapel. He can’t tell whether or not it’s real. And those pants? They look like they’re intended to be formal, but their fit is more like skinny jeans. The perfect completion of his outfit is his mismatched socks: one red-and-blue striped, one neon yellow. Yosuke has to blink a few times to make sure this individual isn’t a trick of the light.

“Yosuke Hanamura, right?” Teddie asks, grabbing the hand that isn’t holding his duffel bag with both of his. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t meet up with you before, I get super duper busy with the kids!”

Yosuke blanches. Kids? In a house this size? He tries to peer around Teddie, but the other’s laugh has him snapping back to attention. “No, no, not in the house, silly! I work at a daycare!” He gets a dreamy look in his eye. “Those kiddos are so precious…” He releases Yosuke’s hand to feign a swoon, complete with a hand to his forehead. “It pains me to be apart from them!”

_This is going to be incredibly odd._

“Uh,” Yosuke finds a gap to interrupt Teddie’s dramatic monologue. “Do you think I could come in? It’s starting to rain.”

Teddie freezes, gasping. “Oh, oh, yeah, I’m so sorry! Golly, I just get so caught up thinking of those li’l guys! C’mon, I’ll show you around!” With that, he snatches Yosuke’s hand again and drags him inside.

The blond has quite a bit to say about every room he shows his new roommate, and says it all so fast that Yosuke can only catch a few phrases at a time. Thankfully, the layout is easy to remember. The main room and the kitchen are separated only by a counter. At the back of the room is a narrow staircase leading upstairs, where the bedrooms and bathroom are located. The bathroom is between the bedrooms, with three doors leading into it: one connecting it to either room, and one from the hall. The bathroom is split by a semi-transparent sliding door. On one side is the toilet and sink, on the other is the bathtub/shower combination. Teddie points out that the first door from the staircase is his bedroom, which he doesn’t show the inside of, and points out that the third and last door in the hall is going to be Yosuke’s room. He leaves Yosuke to get settled while he goes to get treats for them, to celebrate Yosuke’s arrival.

It was all very exhausting.

Yosuke’s room is quite simple, the walls painted a natural beige and the furniture a grayish wood. He has a desk, a bureau with a mirror on the wall above it, and a bed that looks like a double. When he tries to turn on the overhead light, it splutters, then flicks out with a few sparks. _Yikes._ Yosuke settles for the lamp on the nightstand beside the bed. The light is dim, as if intended mostly for atmosphere. Unfortunately, it’s all he has for now. He’ll have to mention it to Teddie, see if he’ll be willing to chip in for one of those floor lamps with the flexible bulbs. Yeah, that’d be neat.

The duffel bag is dropped in front of the bureau with a muffled _thud,_ and Yosuke collapses onto the bed. It’s more comfortable than he expected it to be, but maybe that’s because he had suffer through a forty-five minute wait for the bus, only to hear that it broke down at the stop prior and wouldn’t be continuing the route. He’d been forced to walk, which wouldn’t have been a big deal, had his bag not been so heavy and had he not gotten ridiculously lost. Whatever. He’s made it now, so that’s what counts.

A call from downstairs rouses Yosuke, who hadn’t realized he’d dozed off at all. He pushes himself to his feet and heads toward the call.

“What’s up?” he asks, running a hand through his already unruly hair. Yeah, there’s some bedhead going on there.

Teddie snickers, probably at his hair situation. Then he gestures to the counter. “I made some cupcakes! I thought I had some left over from a few nights ago, but I guess I ate ‘em all and forgot, but I said I’d get sweets for you, so I made some myself! I dunno if they’ll be any good, since I’ve only ever made ‘em from the packages. I didn’t have any though, so I had to do it from scratch with a recipe, but I hope they’ll be good enough!”

Involuntarily, Yosuke’s jaw drops a little. He manages to close it at soon as he notices, but his surprise is still evident. “You made cupcakes from scratch for the first time just so I’d be able to have some?”

Teddie tilts his head. “Well, yeah. How come you look so surprised?”

Yosuke huffs and looks away, attempting to force away the blood in his cheeks. “No one’s really bothered with that kind of thing for me before. It’s not like my moving in is a huge deal.”

“But it totally is!” Teddie gasps, throwing his hands up to his cheeks. “I’m so excited to have someone to live with! Especially someone who does all that impressive stuff like you!”

Impressive stuff? As much as Yosuke digs through his brain for anything that could be considered impressive, he can’t think of anything. He’s sort of good at making mix CDs?

Teddie hums, moving over to the low table in front of the main room’s couch. He shuffles through the papers there, then holds one up to show Yosuke. “Naoto gave me this! They said it was a little summary of your resume and their notes from your interview, or something like that! Um, lemme see… it says that you know piano and guitar, a buncha the mixes you published online got super great reviews, they were ‘pleased with the quality’ of your thesis essay (which is a good compliment from them, ‘cause they’re picky about stuff like that). See, you’re impressive! I can’t wait to get to know you! Ooh, and for you to meet my friends!”

This successfully strikes Yosuke speechless, which doesn’t happen often. He can’t help the flutter of pride in his chest, the happiness of being praised. He has to admit, that isn’t something that happens often, either.

A grins spreads across his face, and he laughs abashedly, moving toward the counter. “Well, y’know,” is all he can really think to say, grabbing for a cupcake to occupy his mouth and give him an excuse for his loss of words. When he takes a bite, the cake is perfectly fluffy and sweet, and a soft “ _Mm!”_ escapes him. Swallowing quickly, he says, “Dude, this is great! You’ve seriously never done this before? Damn!” and stuff the rest into his mouth hastily.

Hearing this, Teddie absolutely _beams_. He hurries into the kitchen and brings an old, old book over to the counter, snatching up a highlighter from a cup filled with pens. With a quick look at the table of contents, he flips to what’s likely the recipe he used, and then traces the edges of the page with a neon pink line. What an odd way to bookmark something, Yosuke thinks, but it doesn’t faze him quite as much as the other odd things his new roommate has done thus far. Perhaps he’s already used to it.

Unfortunately, the immaculately straight line is quirked crooked when Teddie’s cell phone lets out the peppiest vocaloid song Yosuke’s ever heard (and he’s heard a lot of peppy vocaloid songs). _Clumsy_ is added to Yosuke’s short list of adjectives about Teddie when he fumbles with the highlighter cap, flicking it in just a way that it practically flies across the kitchen, rolling under the stove. He gasps, diving after it, then casts Yosuke a desperate look. “Please answer my phone!”

Oh god what.

Yosuke can barely answer his _own_ phone.

However, caught up in Teddie’s frenzy, he’s answering the call without thought.

“Um, uh—hello?” Nice, Yosuke. Very good.

The individual on the other end hesitates. “Is the owner of this phone nearby?”

“Y-yeah!” Yosuke says, because _god_ this person probably thinks he’s a thief or something. But why would a thief answer the phone they stole? _Stop thinking so much and be a decent damn conversationalist!_ “He’s, um, a little preoccupied, though. Can I pass on a message?”

Another pause. Maybe the signal is bad? “Is it safe to assume you’re Teddie’s new roommate that he’s been talking about?” His voice is fairly low, but smooth and flowing. It’s sort of nice to listen to.

“Uh, yeah.” _Broken record, much? Say something other than ‘yeah!’_ “I got here this morning. Is he always so—”

“Yes, he is,” interrupts the other, with a light chuckle. “I don’t have much time to talk, but please tell Teddie that Nanako still expects that ice cream he promised her— _when? Right, right_ —twenty-three days, seven hours, and fifty-four minutes ago.”

“What’d she do, start a timer as soon as he promised?” Yosuke asks, astonished, which he immediately regrets doing.

Another voice, distant but distinctly feminine, shouts, “Yes! I gotta, or he forgets! He’s so ditsy!”

Apparently, the volume of the phone is set louder than Yosuke thought (or Teddie has unnatural hearing), because the owner shouts back, “I remembered this time, I promise, I promise!” Yosuke is the only one that can see the true pallor of his cheeks; he’d definitely forgotten.

That chuckle again. “He’s white as a sheet, isn’t he?”

Something about the friendliness in his tone has Yosuke laughing along. “Sure is. Maybe I just moved into a haunted house.”

“ _Who ya gonna call?”_ the girl in the background—Nanako—chimes in.

“Me, if necessary,” says the guy on the other end. “Tell Teddie to give you my number, alright? Feel free to call or text me if he’s too much for you.”

This startled Yosuke. Is this guy really that trusting? Or is he just that kind? “Oh, um, yeah, okay.” Back to the basics.

“Thank you for answering Teddie’s phone for him. Nanako asked me so nicely I couldn’t say no, so if you hadn’t picked up, I would’ve felt awful.” Yeah, he’s just that kind. “My break is over, so I need to go, but it was great talking to you. Really, I look forward to meeting you in person.”

“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” Yosuke jokes, then mentally smacks himself for talking without thinking. Too forward, too forward! Nobody likes that attitude, Yosuke! You learned this already!

But the guy laughs outright, not just the chuckle from before. “I’ll try not to, but no promises. Maybe you’ll have to come to me. Which means it’s okay to say that I’ll talk to you later.” With that, the call is over.

Teddie is leaning over the counter. His entire weight is on his forearms, holding himself off the ground and kicking his feet in the air behind him. “I can’t believe he talked to you that much!” he gushes. “Souji takes a while to warm up to strangers! He’s normally super quiet for like, weeks after meeting someone new! Must’ve been something in your voice! No wonder people like your songs!”

 _They don’t, not really,_ Yosuke wants to say. But something stops him. Something in the sincerity of Teddie’s words. Something in the tone the guy had used in his goodbye. He isn’t entirely sure what it is, but it’s certainly _something._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Souji makes an in-person appearance, and Yosuke is reminded that he is, in fact, very gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to go a little into naoot & yoosks friendship bc theyre Great Pals and I Love Them

Two weeks into his new job, and Naoto hasn’t given Yosuke a single one of their special cases. Instead, they’ve been assigning him to work on some simple ones that the unit had yet to solve—ones he managed to figure out in a couple days each.

Even so, Naoto stops by his desk fairly often to read the computer screen over his shoulder, or skim through some reports he’d pulled out to study. Sometimes they suggest something, like another case file that might have some relation, or a different format for reports. It was about halfway through the second week when they finally asked Yosuke, almost forcefully casual, about his day. Since it was easy to understand that Naoto didn’t start conversations unrelated to work much, Yosuke carried most of the weight of it for them, so that maybe, they could warm up to him a little more.

It worked. Soon enough, Naoto invited him into their office with some files in hand, saying that there were some things they wanted to point out to him that could assist in his current case. He found out that Naoto did most of their work sitting on their desk rather than in front of it, something they didn’t offer an explanation for. Paired with Yosuke’s habit of sitting on the floor with all his papers spread around him, working in Naoto’s office is convenient for both of them.

The best part is, Naoto is incredibly easy to hang out with. They don’t feel the need to fill silence with useless conversation. Yosuke’d fallen out of that in college (y’know, those years when he lost all his old friends and never got new ones, so he sat with the other lonely kids at the library), so he doesn’t find it uncomfortable. Every now and again he could ask them a question, and doesn’t have to wonder if they think it’s silly, because he knows they don’t.

One day, as he’s getting coffee for the two of them—two packets of Splenda for Naoto, two packets of sugar and three of vanilla cream for Yosuke—some people that do mostly field work are hovering there, waiting for their next call. They recognize Yosuke and ask him what he’d bribed Chief Shirogane with to get her to let him work in her office like that.

“I didn’t bribe _them_ with anything. I treated them like a human being instead of putting them on a damn pedestal and never speaking to them,” he snaps. Before they can reply, he continues: “And for future reference, Chief Shirogane uses gender neutral pronouns _only,_ so if I hear you referring to them as _her_ again, so help me God, I will dump your coffee all over your fucking computer.”

This surprises everyone nearby, including Yosuke himself, because he doesn’t just _snap_ at people. He doesn’t do much talking at work at all. He keeps to himself and a few people in the research department, plus Naoto. He supposes that, with the time they spent together in comfortable quiet, he’s become pretty fond of them. Feeling blood rush to his face, Yosuke takes the coffee mugs and flees back to Naoto’s office, without mentioning what happened at the coffeemaker. He wonders if they’ll ever find out.

(Everyone else does. Nobody calls Chief Shirogane ‘she’ or ‘he’ again, and Yosuke’s chest wells with pride and hopes Naoto feels a little better about going to work and not being misgendered all the time.)

It’s a case that Yosuke assumed would be easy that practically sucker-punches him in the gut, over and over again. The case is a fishing trip his dad never took him on, and all he can hook are herrings so brightly colored, Little Red Riding Hood could skin them and make them into a new coat.

It’s absolutely _infuriating._

For the fourth time that day, Yosuke tosses a file to the side and drags his hands through his hair. He curses, then falls backward onto the papers behind him.

Naoto leans back, supporting their weight with an arm propped on the table. “Stuck?”

“I keep thinking I find something, and there’s _always_ something to contradict it! I don’t fucking get it! God, if I just knew a little more about the history of this area, maybe I could…” he trails off, mumbling to himself.

“Did Teddie ever introduce you to Souji Seta?” they ask after it’s obvious his mumbles aren’t going to be for their ears.

Interrupted, he looks up. “No,” he says, then thinks. “Well, sort of? I answered his phone for him the first day I moved in, and Souji’d been the one calling, I think. But we haven’t met in person. Why?”

Naoto shrugs. Their computer _pings,_ and they glance over to it. “He teaches history at the local high school, and he’s very good. At one point, he mentioned that he was offered a position as a professor, but declined. Perhaps he could be of some assistance.”

Yosuke doesn’t even get a syllable out before the door flies open. _Goodness, this town and their dramatic door-openings._ “Naoto!” wails a girl with her hair in a thick ponytail. She hops over all of Yosuke’s papers and clutches the chief detective, kissing their cheek. “I missed you!”

Naoto extracts themself carefully, minding the nearest edge of the desk. They clear their throat. “Ah, Yosuke, this is Rise.”

She turns to Yosuke, as if just noticing his presence. She’s familiar, somehow. Oh, yeah. She’d been by the vending machines during lunch. “Weren’t you here like, three hours ago?” he asks. Which, he realizes a moment too late, is _not_ a form of the word ‘hello.’ Rise doesn’t give him the time to correct his mistake.

“Yes, but I get so lonely when Naoto’s not around,” she huffs, resuming her clinging.

Naoto has mentioned PDA bothering them once before, so Yosuke takes the opportunity to take a break from work. He’s been here since seven in the morning, anyway. He focuses on collecting his files and shoving them into binders, then into his bag.

“I think I’m gonna head out, Chief,” he says, hovering by the door. “Uh, do you think you could text that Souji guy and tell him I might stop by the high school? I’m kinda desperate for a lead.”

With a hand pushing Rise away from their face, Naoto gives him a small smile. “Yes, I will as soon as _someone_ picks up my phone from where she’d knocked it on the floor.”

Rise sticks out her tongue at Naoto, whose expression fills with so much tenderness, Yosuke has to look away. He says a quick, “Thanks,” and hurries to the elevator, already searching the address of the high school.

 

* * *

 

The schools of the district are built all close together, sharing one large parking lot and several bus lots. Luckily, it’s easy to find a spot close to the high school, since most of the students that drive have gone home by this hour. Even though Yosuke is normally not that big on meeting new people—first impressions, _yikes_ —he’s so fucking tired of this case’s labyrinth of nothing but dead-ends to think too much. That is, until he’s standing in front of the door of the classroom the office secretary said was Mr. Seta’s.

Oh man.

Ohhhh god, oh man, oh sweet literally-every-deity-out-and/or-up-there.

This was a terrible idea. He should never have come. He should have just gone to the library and gone through old newspapers—shit, wait, he did that already. Okay, he should have just asked Naoto for some—god damn it, he did that too. Maybe Teddie would have had something to say on the matter? Something so ridiculously out-there that it would have thrown Yosuke back on track? Who is he kidding, Teddie would have probably just made a bad pun about the first sentence in the first file he read.

Whatever. He’s here now. May as well see it through to the bitter end, huh?

Tapping his knuckles lightly on the door, Yosuke pushes the ajar door open enough to step inside, calling, “Uh, is Souji Seta here?”

A tall individual with a narrow frame stands at the whiteboard, glancing at a paper and then jotting things down in blue, and he turns when he hears Yosuke’s voice.

Ho.

Ly.

_Shit._

If Yosuke didn’t know before this that he sometimes likes guys, he’d know now. Because, well. _Well._ This just isn’t _fair._

“ _I’ve never felt so gay in my life,”_ Yosuke mutters under his breath.

“Pardon?” the teacher asks, and Yosuke is brought back to when _his_ old teachers signaled him out in class. While Yosuke continues gaping like a fish, he adds, “I’m Souji Seta. Is there something I can do for you?”

_Stop looking at me with those pretty-ass eyes,_ Yosuke wants to say but doesn’t. Instead, he says, “Oh, um, yeah.” He enters the classroom and approaches Souji, holding out his hand. “I’m Yosuke Hanamura. I’m a cold-case detective; I work with Naoto Shirogane, and they recommended you.”

When Souji shakes his hand, it’s like a jolt shocks up his arm at the same time ice water is poured onto his head. His skin is soft. He holds on a second longer than the shake lasts and Yosuke has to force himself not to read into it. At least, not yet.

But Souji is smiling, now, and Yosuke’s heart melts and freezes simultaneously. Why can’t his feelings just decide on something to do? This is getting silly. Oh, wait, Souji is talking, he should probably listen, huh? “—what I know about the area. While I doubt I know more than the researchers at the station, I’ll do what I can.”

“Yeah, well,” Yosuke mumbles, shifting the strap of his bag, “if you don’t, this case is history—like, not actual history, but, I mean, dead, I guess? Uh.” He clears his throat. “Yeah.”

Maybe Yosuke should be a teacher, too. His class could be called ‘How To Make A Complete Fool Of Yourself In Front Of The Hottest Guy You’ve Ever Seen 101.’

To his surprise, Souji laughs a little. “I don’t know many solid facts about the area. It’s the little details that interest me, therefore they’re what I know most about. I’m not sure just how much help I’ll be.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it!” Yosuke objects. “Really! That could be exactly what I need!” He runs a hand through his hair, huffing. “This case is a serious pain in the ass. It’s a bummer it’s the first you’re helping me with.”

“First?” is the only reply, and the detective wants to throw his bag out the window and also maybe himself.

Rather than addressing that, he focuses on a poster depicting different types of ancient architecture. It isn’t as interesting as Souji, but he makes do, because looking at the teacher again will probably give him a heart attack. “A-anyway, it’d be best if we sat down somewhere and tried to crank out most of the research in one go. That’s how I do it, anyway. So, uh, if your availability is, um—”

“Tomorrow is Friday,” Souji interrupts, before Yosuke completes the process of Making A Complete Fool Of Himself In Front Of The Hottest Guy He’s Ever Seen. How will he finish the lesson for his class? “If I finish grading today’s AP tests today and tomorrow, I should be free all of Saturday. Should I meet you somewhere around eleven?”

“Yeah!” _Whoa, there. Tone it down a little, Yosuke._ “Er, yeah. I’ll write down my address for you, if you’ve got some spare paper…?”

What sort of teacher doesn’t have spare paper? Come _on,_ Yosuke, get it together!

Before he can correct himself, Souji gives him that little smile again. “You moved in with Teddie, right? I’ve been there before.”

“Oh, uh, alright,” he says, backing out of the room. “Um, I’ll see you on Saturday at eleven, then?”

“Saturday at eleven,” Souji agrees, and his eyes are still on Yosuke when he turns and flees the room.

 

* * *

 

 “I don’t know, Kanji,” Souji sighs, crossing his arms on the table and laying his head on them. He sits in the teacher’s lounge with Kanji Tatsumi, the Home Ec teacher, and Rise Kujikawa, the choir director. “If he was going to text me, he would have done so already, wouldn’t he?”

“Listen, Souji,” Rise says in her Romance Advice Tone, “If he’s as ditzy as you said—” (“I never said that!”) “—then he probably just forgot. You have Teddie’s number, don’t you? Just ask _him_ for the guy’s number, instead of the other way around!”

“Won’t that be sort of needy?” Kanji asks, furrowing his brow. He turns to Souji. “That’d definitely be too forward. Don’t do that.”

“Like he’d listen to you!” Rise snaps. “The only reason you and Teddie are actually dating is because he got tired of your stuttering and kissed you! Watching fireworks, no less!”

Kanji goes red, and starts to say something else, but the elementary school’s gym teacher, Chie Satonaka, throws herself into an empty seat, fanning herself. Her face is almost as red as Kanji’s.

She twists open a water bottle and downs it in about ten seconds, then grabs Rise’s and drinks half of that, too. “My _god,_ I’m exhausted. Gymnastics day is great when you’re not the _only example_ and you need to demonstrate to pretty much every student individually!”

“You think you’ve got it bad?” Kanji scoffs. “I have to taste-test all the dishes that the damn kids make. I don’t fucking understand how they can be so dense. It’s a tablespoon of salt! I told them! A hundred times! One tablespoon! Hearing ‘Hey, did we add salt? Let’s add some, to be safe!’ every other minute is _not_ a good feeling!”

Rise snickers. “You’ve got it rough. I’ve only got the advanced choir, so all my kids know what they’re doing.”

“If you’re going to complain, do it somewhere else, please,” Souji whines, burying his face in his arms. “I can’t focus on my new crush with all this noise.”

This has Chie propped up in an instant, leaning forward over the table. “Ooh, new crush? When’s the last time you dated anybody? Have you ever?”

Souji’s whine this time is wordless, a pathetic noise in his throat. “I dated someone in high school, and someone in college, but that was it, and I wasn’t really that attracted to them. This is unexplored terrain for me. Someone call Marco Polo’s reincarnation. I need his advice.”

“Marco!” Chie yells, looking around the room for the first person to reply.

It comes from the doorway, where Nanako is entering with a thick stack of papers in her hands. “Polo!” she shouts back, grinning.

The sound of her voice rouses Souji from his tiny depression, and he raises his head and turns to her. “Hi, Nanako. Finished grading?”

“Yup!” she chirps, passing over the stack. “Grading tests like these are super easy! I don’t have to decipher anyone’s handwriting when I’m just looking for circled numbers!”

“Another reason I love teaching gym,” sighs Chie, taking a long swig of Rise’s water bottle.

“That makes everything,” Souji says, staring at the graded tests in despair. “Now there’s no busy work to pass the time until eleven.”

Clearly lost, Chie glances to Rise. “What happens at eleven?”

“He has a date,” Rise replies, giving Souji a knowing look. He shudders.

The legs of his chair scrape on the tile as Souji stands up. Holding the stack of tests under his arm, he grumbles, “It isn’t a date,” to his friends before making his escape from the teacher’s lounge. In the reflection of the small window of the door, he sees them all leaning together and whispering.

As he steps out into the swarm of teenagers, Souji doubts there’s anywhere _near_ as much gossip among them as there is among their teachers.

And then he thinks about his date.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their definitely-not-a-date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> took me long enough amirite kids

Teddie has discovered a newfound love of baking. This is evident by the red velvet cake, chocolate cupcakes, and five batches of cookies. Also, if one were to look in their cabinets, by the lack of flour and sugar, and the abundance of chocolate chips, white chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, pecans, peanuts, macadamia nuts, and all the other things that can and will be found in cookies. 

This would be great, if Yosuke wasn’t deep-cleaning the house in an attempt to keep himself from thinking about a certain teacher with silver hair that he’d really like to run his fingers through, put little pins in, maybe also pull as his lips find his neck—

Yosuke cranks the hot water knob in the kitchen sink, turning his fingers bright red as he scrubs fiercely at some incredibly stubborn dried batter at the bottom of a bowl. Teddie isn’t a big fan of washing dishes. Actually, he isn’t a fan at all. When Yosuke would ask if he cleaned up his baking mess, Teddie would change the subject so quickly Yosuke almost got whiplash. Thankfully, Teddie’s more-than-a-little messy habits give him something to do. Yosuke, himself, only really cleans when he’s got too much on his mind. He’s a stress-cleaner. His parents loved it. 

He’s been in the kitchen for about an hour already, most of that spent cleaning the area around the oven, and letting the dishes soak in hot sudsy water. He hasn’t even gotten to the living room yet. Although, that’s probably for the best, because it isn’t too dirty, which would mean he’d be more likely to slip into his thoughts again. Considering that’s exactly what he’s trying to avoid, the mess in the kitchen is a lifesaver. 

Teddie, on the other hand, is not. 

The blond has been following him around for about as long as he’s been cleaning, not offering to help at all, and instead asking all sorts of questions about the ‘date.’ 

(Yosuke insists, every time the term is used, that it is  _ definitely not a date,  _ while the butterflies in his stomach are gradually replaced with angry wasps.)

Currently, Teddie is perched on the counter, babbling about the last time Souji was over. It was for a party Teddie threw, and all his friends came. Even Naoto had been there, only because their girlfriend dragged them, but their presence existed within the household, and that’s all Teddie cared about. 

“Rise brought vodka!” Teddie is saying now, “I didn’t really like it that much, ‘cause it was kinda burny, but it was really fruity too, so that kinda helped. It was super fun! Yukiko is a super lightweight, and she laughed at like, everything! Souji actually got kinda drunk too! He’s such a ladykiller when he’s had stuff to drink, even  _ I  _ swooned!”

That’s definitely something Yosuke would like to see. Right up there with Souji’s bare chest and bare—whoops, rein it back, rein it back.

“So!” Teddie shouts, so that Yosuke  _ has  _ to pay attention to him. “When’s Souji coming?” 

“I told you,” Yosuke sighs, “multiple times. He’s coming over at eleven.”

Teddie glances at the clock on the microwave. “It’s ten-forty-five!”

What.

“What.”

_ What. _

Yosuke whirls, praying Teddie misspoke. Nope. The microwave clock definitely reads ten-forty-six. 

He drags his soggy hand down his face and then clutches at his hair. “No, no, no, oh god, I should cancel, I should tell him Naoto called me in, I should pack up my stuff and go back to the boonies, you can tell him, oh, god, tell him I choked when I inhaled a tissue, tell him I was eaten by a rogue alligator at the zoo, I can’t do this, I cannot do this, no way can I—”

The doorbell chimes.

Yosuke freezes, deer-in-the-headlights style, staring wide-eyed at the door. 

His fingers are all pruney. His hair is a little wet from when he ran his hands through it while washing the dishes. His socks are mismatched. He has bags under his eyes. He hasn’t brushed his teeth in three hours. He doesn’t have any coffee made to offer his guest. He can’t do this.

But Teddie has already answered the door and is currently giving Souji a hug that looks almost painful, and Souji is taking off his shoes and shaking rainwater out of his hair. 

Then he catches Yosuke’s eye, and he smiles, and everything is okay. He can do this. 

 

* * *

 

Souji wakes up at seven twenty-eight, and he knows that there’s no way he’s going to be able to fall back asleep, but spends eleven minutes trying anyway. When he reluctantly comes to terms with the truth, he sits up and looks at the unused space on the left side of his queen-sized bed, and imagines what Yosuke would look like sleeping there. He takes three minutes to daydream about waking up beside Yosuke, two debating how Yosuke likes his coffee, and another four trying (and failing) not to imagine Yosuke stepping out of Souji’s shower, only a towel around his waist as he says that he loves the way Souji’s soap smells and that he hopes he doesn’t mind that he used it.

At seven forty-seven, Souji showers. At seven fifty-nine, he brushes his teeth with one hand and towel-dries his hair with the other. At eight sixteen, he has finally fixed his hair and decided what to wear and is waiting for his Pop-Tarts to finish in the toaster, and for water to boil for his morning tea. At eight eighteen, he has looked at the clock ten times since eight seventeen, and he realizes how slowly time passes when you have absolutely nothing to do before something you’ve been looking forward to for the past thirty-six hours. 

At eight twenty-five, he’s in front of the TV with the news muted, finishing his Pop-Tart and browsing his phone. After going through all of his apps, he ends up in the group chat Chie and Rise convinced them all of joining.

**Souji Seta**   
I feel like my clocks are broken. They’re moving too slowly. What time is it?

**Chie Satonaka**   
it’s 8;26

**Rise Kujikawa** **  
** you’re that eager for that date huh?? (•̀⌄•́)

**Kanji Tatsumi**   
damn u got it bad

**Souji Seta**   
Thank you for reminding me. 

**Yukiko Amagi**   
What’s this about a date?

**Chie Satonaka**   
i’ll fill u in babe

**Teddie Kuma**   
Yosuke’s been cleaning since he woke up!!!! Also swearing a lot but he’s probably just excited!!!!

**Teddie Kuma**   
I think you’re his first friend except me and Naoto since he moved here!!!!

**Chie Satonaka**   
poor guy. u and naoto are like polar opposites!!!

**Rise Kujikawa**   
be good to my princet <(｀^´)>

**Souji Seta**   
Maybe I’ll write a pop quiz or something. 11:00 has to come eventually, right?

Rise then says something about visiting Naoto and not being able to text while she drove, and the others get into a discussion about phones and driving. Souji turns off notifications for the chat and unmutes the television. The news anchor is talking about the zoo, something about alligators, and Souji submits to the slow passage of time. 

By nine, two of his three cats have made themselves comfortable in varying degrees of completely-on-top-of-him, and he accepts the fact that he will not be moving anytime soon. 

By ten, all three cats are purring away, getting cat fur all over his clothes, and he finally pries himself away to get his hands on one of the many lint-rollers that are scattered around his home. He decides he’s best off just leaving now and stopping for breakfast or something on the way there. Unfortunately, all the pastries in café windows look unappetizing. He settles on parking two blocks from Teddie’s house and reading a book he’d downloaded a while ago. It’s boring. He rereads the same paragraph multiple times, because he realizes that his thoughts are not on the book at all. But it’s ten thirty-seven, now, so he starts his car again and drives the two blocks over to the place he’s been thinking about for the past day and a half. 

Then, like weather out of a movie, there’s a clap of thunder and the rain comes down in a sheet. 

Super.

(He’d spent so long on his hair, too, damn it.)

Resigning himself to his soggy fate, Souji braces himself and then practically throws himself out of his car, hurrying to the porch. The overhang is probably more to complete the look of the house than it is to shelter anything, because the wind is  _ just right  _ to blow the rain directly onto him. With a shaking hand, he presses the doorbell. He hears it chime through the door. A few seconds later (his clothes are done for), there’s a whirl of a blond and the air is being squeezed out of him. He’s babbling about something, but Souji is focused on getting out of his wet shoes and trying to make his hair look semi-decent. 

Souji has never been the type to find shining things interesting. They simply don’t catch his eye the way they do others’. But something seems to be gleaming golden in his peripheral vision, something that compels him to look up, his attention honing in. 

Yosuke is positively stunning. Sure, he’s in torn, faded jeans and a water-spotted hoodie, with mismatched socks and wild hair, but  _ god,  _ he’s gorgeous. Souji forces himself not to stare at his lips—red, like he’d been biting them, and slightly parted—though his eyes aren’t much better. Wide, caramel eyes, focused solely on him. Souji almost convinces himself he imagined the way Yosuke gave him a slow once-over, gaze lingering on his white button-up, now slightly transparent. 

Suddenly, Yosuke jolts into motion. “Oh, jeez, you’re totally soaked! Here, let me get you a towel, you can borrow something to wear while I get the dryer started up, I’m sorry you had to drive out in this rain, oh man, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Souji assures, palms out in a ‘settle down’ gesture. “It hasn’t been raining long.” 

Teddie hops on the balls of his feet to turn around, beginning to run to his room. “I’ll get something for you to wear! I’ll be quick!” 

“Teddie!” Yosuke shouts. Teddie stops and turns, head tilted curiously. “This might be hard to accept, but I don’t think your clothes are gonna fit him.” 

This has the excited expression of the blond thoughtful. “Oh. Yeah. Okay, that makes sense. After all, you have to be small to be as agile and nimble as  _ moi _ !” 

Yosuke snickers. “Yeah, or to reach the whisk you always drop under the stove.” 

“Yosuke!” Teddie whines, drawing out the last syllable. “You’re always—” He’s interrupted by his own phone ringing, which he answers immediately. 

While he’s occupied, Yosuke puts his finger to his lips with a grin as he grabs Souji’s wrist. He pulls Souji up the stairs and down the hall, stopping in front of the door of his room. 

“Wait here a sec,” he says, ducking into the room. Souji catches glimpse of a messy floor before Yosuke is back, holding some clothes in his hands. “Um, I hope you don’t mind wearing these while I dry your clothes off.”

“Of course not,” Souji says, taking the small pile. “I’m grateful you’re doing this at all.” 

“Oh, yeah, uh, don’t worry about it!” Yosuke says, redness creeping to his cheeks. “Um, the bathroom’s right there, if you wanna change. I mean, of course you wanna change, but, uh, that’s probably a good place, um.” He swallows. “Yeah. So. I’ll wait. Just. Um.”

“I’ll give you my wet clothes when I’m changed,” Souji says, smiling and heading into the bathroom. It isn’t until he’s unbuttoning his shirt that he realizes the situation he is currently in.  

He came into his crush’s house looking like he’d just come from a shirt-soaking contest. He is about to change into his crush’s clothes. Repeat: he is about to be _wearing_ his _crush’s clothes_. Okay, Souji, focus. Don’t think too hard about it. The sooner he’s out of his wet clothes, the sooner he’ll get them back dry. This almost makes him want to take his time, but he shakes off the thought and scrambles to change. 

Yosuke had given him some loose black pajama pants with orange dots, and an old hoodie with a logo of some band he isn’t familiar with. It’s incredibly comfortable. He half-hopes that the dryer breaks so he can wear Yosuke’s clothes home. Again, he shakes off the thought, and reminds himself that  _ this is not a date. _ He’s here to help Yosuke with his case, that’s all. This is not meant to be romantic. Whatsoever. Right? Yes, yes, of course. 

With his wet clothes over his arm, Souji steps out of the bathroom to see Yosuke pacing just outside the door. He seems to be mumbling to himself until he catches sight of Souji. This time, Souji knows he doesn’t imagine Yosuke staring at Souji, nor the red that is quickly covering his face. In an attempt to break through the tension-filled moment, Souji holds out his clothes. “Thanks for letting me borrow these,” says Souji sheepishly. “I had an umbrella in my car. I guess I really should have used it.” 

Yosuke snickers a bit as he takes Souji’s clothes. “Yeah, probably.” They’re both silent for another moment before Yosuke clears his throat. “Uh, my room is right there, I’m going to throw these in the dryer. You can… look over my notes, I guess? The handwritten stuff. I don’t know how much of the files you’re supposed to be allowed to read.” 

Souji smiles at Yosuke’s back (definitely not his ass, no, definitely not) as he hurries to start drying his clothes. Then he gets his first good look into the room Yosuke calls his own.

The floor is about 60% papers, 40% visible carpet. The papers are spread out in an arc, not quite a complete circle, around a pillow on the floor. The layout is actually clever, Souji thinks. Yosuke wouldn’t have to dig through piles of papers on his desk, he just has to turn a little bit. Speaking of his desk, it’s apparently been put to better use as a dining table. On it are some empty ramen cups and water bottles, and a few half-finished bags of chips. The curtains are wide open, but because of the storm, not much light is getting in. Souji tries to turn on the overhead light, but it seems the bulb is out. That must be why the table lamp is on the floor by the pillow. Souji sits down a little behind the pillow and leans over it, picking up the notepad that’s directly in front of it. 

And almost chokes.

The page is covered, absolutely  _ covered,  _ and it’s all about him. It’s his name in cursive, in block letters, bubble letters, different colors of pen. It’s  _ Souji Hanamura  _ and  _ Yosuke Seta  _ and doodles of hearts and  _ S+Y.  _ Near the bottom corner is what looks to be lyrics, scribbled over so they’re illegible. At the very bottom of the page, in the sloppiest writing of it all, reads  _ u just met this guy u gotta find ur fucking chill but holy shit hes so attractive god im gay. _

Souji’s face has never felt so hot. He throws the notepad back where it was and shuffles some papers on top of it, leaping up and sitting on the other side of the array of files. He picks up a map, printed across three sheets of standard paper that have been taped together at the edges. There are marks on certain places, street corners and alleyways, and little notes at the end of arrows. He tries to calm himself down. 

By the time Yosuke comes back, Souji has a pencil in hand and is labelling a few of the places on the map that he recalls most crimes happening (muggings and robberies and drug deals, nothing like a murder or anything). Yosuke drops himself onto the pillow and sifts through the nearest pages. Souji doesn’t look up right away, because he knows what Yosuke is about to find. He can pinpoint the exact moment he does: he physically jumps, looks up at Souji, then promptly tears out the page without looking down. He tears it a few times, crumples up the pieces, and tosses them to the side. 

“What was that?” Souji asks, like he doesn’t know.

“N-nothing!” Yosuke stammers, staring red-faced at the papers in front of him. “Um, so, anyway. Anyway. The case.” 

Once Yosuke begins his briefing, he quickly becomes more expressive as he explains. He throws up his hands when he points out something that never works with the evidence he finds, runs his hands roughly through his hair when he pauses to think about something, smiles a little hysterically when he lists off all the resources he’s used and things he’s tried. 

Souji has never felt so enamoured. His eyes widen and his jaw slackens as he listens, lost in Yosuke’s voice and his eyes and his passion and  _ Yosuke, Yosuke, Yosuke.  _ The way he’s thrown himself so completely into what he loves doing reminds Souji of his friends, but this feels like it’s more than that. So when Yosuke asks for his input, Souji follows his lead, diving in right after him. 

They only take a break when Teddie brings in cookies for them, and even then, they snack on them as they work. It’s dusk when Yosuke sits back in astonishment and murmurs, “Oh my fucking god, I think we did it. I think I have it.” He’s silent for a moment, looking over everything, and then bursts into joyful laughter. He throws himself across the papers and onto Souji, knocking him back onto the floor. At this point, Souji is almost as excited as Yosuke, and tumbles down willingly, laughing along. 

It actually takes them a few seconds after their laughter subsides to realize their position: Yosuke lying on top of Souji, Souji’s hands on his waist, foreheads touching, lips inches apart. 

Neither moves.

Souji is waiting for that stray gunshot, wondering which side it’ll come from: head or heart. 

The stalemate continues.

Head shoots first. Yosuke jerks away, turning back to the case papers and shoving some into an empty folder. “U-um, uh, thanks for helping so much, I wouldn’t be able to have done it without you.”

“Yosuke?” 

“Like, really, this was hard as hell, I’m glad I took all those notes, and I’m glad you were actually able to read my handwriting, and—”

“Yosuke.” 

“Sorry my room is such a huge mess, I’d say it’s not always like this but it is, so um, sorry you had to see it like this, I’m really grateful for your help, honestly, thanks so much—”

“ _ Yosuke. _ ”

“What?” Yosuke finally turns to finally face Souji again, face so red Souji wonders if the rest of his body has any blood at all. 

Souji is sitting up again, now, and gazes quizzically at Yosuke. “Do you not want to kiss me?” 

Yosuke’s jaw drops. He closes his mouth, then opens it, then closes it again. Finally, he says, “I, um. I guess I, uh, didn’t realize that was, um, a good opportunity—okay so, looking back on it like a minute later I can tell that was definitely a good opportunity, but I just, I didn’t, um, I, um.” He swallows. “No. I mean, um, yes? No, I don’t  _ not  _ want to kiss you.” 

The corner of Souji’s lips crooks up. “It isn’t like you lost your only chance.”

“Yeah, but I lost, like, the  _ best  _ chance!” Yosuke whines, pulling puppy eyes that rival even Nanako’s. 

Souji is very close to just leaning over and kissing Yosuke right then, but Teddie’s voice calls up the stairs, interrupting his plan. “Hey Souuuuji, it’s getting kinda late and it’s still raining, you should drive home now so it’s not like, super dark and stormy!” 

Both the men sigh. Yosuke says, “He’s right. They’ve been talking about flash floods at the office.” 

Nodding, Souji gets to his feet, an action Yosuke mimics. “Then I suppose I’ll be on my way, then,” he says, smiling at his host and heading downstairs. Teddie is nowhere to be seen. Yosuke follows him to the front door, watching him put on his shoes that are now mostly dry. 

“Thank you, again,” Yosuke repeats, standing in front of him and shifting on his feet.

“It’s no problem,” Souji replies, hand on the doorknob. “Thank you for having me. I’m willing to help you again anytime, just ask.”

“Uh, yeah,” Yosuke says. 

Teddie chooses this moment to make his appearance—by pushing Yosuke forward, into Souji. Yosuke’s hands end up on Souji’s chest, Souji’s hands on Yosuke’s arms to catch him, lips very much pressed together. The kiss is clumsy, but sweet, and when Yosuke pulls himself back, he’s grinning. 

“I’m not thanking him to his face,” he whispers. 

“That’s fair,” Souji says, and kisses Yosuke again.

He leaves in Yosuke’s clothes, even though they both heard the dryer finish.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thus, it's revealed Souji Seta does, indeed, have a social life.
> 
> Even if it's just his coworkers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> took me long enough  
> tbh i actually got inspired to write more souyo bc i looked through my p4a art book that i got as a gift a few years ago. so. thanks p4a art book

Yosuke grabs Naoto’s hat off their head and screams into it.

He can’t recall hearing his chief say anything worse than a quietly muttered, ‘ _ Damn’  _ under their breath, but after his wordless expression of intense emotion (read: he literally just screamed into a hat), Chief Shirogane turns to him and says, “What the fuck, Hanamura?”

Due to his Pro Ring-Toss Skillz (even in his head he spells it with a z), Yosuke tosses Naoto’s cap almost perfectly onto their head, which makes him feel a little better about screaming into it. This makes him want to pull off his hoodie and scream into that, instead, but he refrains, because this is a professional workplace, even if it is Naoto’s office and only God knows what Rise’s done in here. 

The hefty case file Yosuke’s just finished up bounces to the floor when Yosuke drops onto the leather couch. He turns his face up toward his boss and sighs. “Sorry, Chief. I’ve been sort of all over the place lately.” 

“Emotionally, perhaps,” Naoto says, adjusting their cap with a frown on their lips but a smile in their eyes. “Your case turnover, however, is incredible. Some of the best we’ve seen since, well, since  _ I  _ came here.” 

“Don’t say that like you’re praising me,” Yosuke says. “It was all Souji. I just brought a few old newspapers.” 

The very recently familiar feeling of a hat on his face strikes him once again when Naoto throws it at him. “What have I told you about selling yourself short, and how many times must you make me repeat myself? You’re a fantastic detective, Hanamura.” 

The door opens as Naoto is speaking, and by the pitch of the clicking of heels, Yosuke identifies them as stilettos and, from there, identifies the no-knock visitor as Rise. “You know they wouldn’t say it if they didn’t mean it, Yosuke,” she adds, sitting in the office chair that Naoto always ignores. 

“You can’t both team up against me and my terrible self-esteem like that,” Yosuke whines, “it isn’t fair. Two attractive, successful people against one mediocre-at-best guy that couldn’t manage to teach himself a single trick out of a five dollar magic kit. Not. Fair.”

(Rise reaches into her purse to pull out some coins. Naoto places a hand over hers and guides it away.) 

The three of them heave sighs together— _ sigh _ multaneously, ha, Souji would have laughed at that—before Rise says, “You’re dating Souji, though. That’s super impressive. We’ve always joked it’d take a magician to get him to fall for anyone.”

“Do not make fun of me while I am wallowing in self-pity, Rise, we’ve been over this,” Yosuke says into Naoto’s hat.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” she laughs. “I mean, like, in all the time I’ve known Souji, he’s never even been the slightest bit  _ interested  _ in dating, like, ever. Right, Noot?”

Naoto doesn’t reply, as though if they don’t respond to the nickname, it won’t apply to them at all. 

Still, Yosuke finds himself flushing, and he’s grateful for his Chief’s hat over his face. It strikes him, then, that he knows very little about Souji’s social life. He knows that he’s friends with Teddie, Naoto, and Rise, and he’s heard the names of some of some of Souji’s coworkers, but apart from that, it’s zip, zero, nada. Then—

Rise gasps. “Oh, oh, Naoto! Inoue is retiring as vice principal, and since he’s kinda-sorta-super-loaded, he’s hosting a party, and almost all the staff are invited, which means,  _ da, da daaa,  _ date night!”

Yosuke’s phone buzzes while Rise speaks, and when he checks it, it’s a message from Souji, about the exact same thing Rise had literally just mentioned, though a touch more subtle (it’s easy to be more subtle than Rise Kijukawa, though.)

**Souji Seta <3** **  
** The vice principal of the high school is retiring. His party is this weekend. He mentioned in the invitations that we can bring guests. I was wondering if you’d be willing to be mine?

**Yosuke Hanamura** **  
** yea!!!! tht sounds rad!!!!!!

**Yosuke Hanamura**   
tht came off as rly excitd

**Yosuke Hanamura**   
i mean im not NOT excitd or w/e but lik u kno

**Souji Seta <3**   
Yes, yes, I know. You have a cool, manly image to uphold, even in a private text conversation with your boyfriend.

**Yosuke Hanamura**   
i alrdy agreed y r u bullyng me

**Souji Seta <3**   
Who’s bullying? It isn’t as though I’m wrong, am I?

**Souji Seta <3** **  
** Just make sure you come over so I can make sure your tie isn’t horrendous, tough guy. Love you.

**Yosuke Hanamura** **  
** tht was an ACCIDNT i TOLD U omg. w/e. ily2

(During this silent conversation, Naoto and Rise’s goes a little like:

“Oh, goodness, it seems I’ve been called in to work overtime.”

“But you make the overtime calls.”

_ “Oh, goodness, it seems I’ve been called in to work overtime.”  _

“Naoto, that excuse doesn’t work anymore. It hasn’t worked since you were promoted. Shouldn’t chief detectives notice patterns like that?”

“You’ll have to tell everyone I’m busy. Humbled by homicides.”

“Baffled by burglaries?” 

“Yes, simply overwhelmed with organized crimes.”

“Ah, ruined by robberies, too, I bet.”

“Of course.”)

 

* * *

 

A dark gray suit coat with a houndstooth collar, a red tie, a white undershirt. The darkest jeans he could find. His trusty red laced sneakers. Yeah, this isn’t horrendous. It’s the best he could throw together, anyway. Well, he probably can do better, but he doesn’t know just how formal the dress will be for this party, so semi-formal (or is this business casual?) seems alright. 

Souji’s apartment is about a half an hour’s walk away, which is 100% cheaper than taking a cab. He couldn’t bring his old bike with him when he’d moved—which, in all honesty, may have been for the best—so his current mode of transportation is his own trusty feet. He’s walked there quite a few times now. Normally, he’d be bitter about it, because who the hell walks anywhere? Why doesn’t he have a car? Why doesn’t he just pay up for a taxi? But the walk to Souji’s is actually pretty nice. Most of it is through a pleasant neighborhood, and a little downtown area. He’s literally stopped to smell the flowers, and been forced to proceed to compliment the owner of said flowers on their garden, because they’d been outside and he hadn’t even noticed, but it wasn’t all that bad. They’re sort of acquaintances at this point. Her name is Saki, and if he didn’t have the biggest, gayest crush of all time, he might grow to have one on her. 

Speaking of Saki and her flowers, she’s out on her porch watering her hanging plants when he passes, and she notes his outfit. He makes some lame excuse about a work thing, but she sees right through him. She tells him to hold on for just a moment, running around to the back of her little home, returning with a red rose and a white one. She tucks the red one into his lapel (how? He’ll never know. But it looks nice) and tells him to give the white one to his date. She winks. He flushes and thanks her, hurrying away. 

About five minutes away, someone is heaving a motorcycle out of the bed of a truck. Yosuke, even though he knows he doesn’t have time to go home and change if these clothes get messed up, immediately catches the other side of the motorcycle just as it’s about to slam into the edge of the truck bed. The person looks up, surprised, and grins at him. He introduces himself as Kou. He says he doesn’t have much time, just enough to put the bike out and put the For Sale sign up—Yosuke wants to cry at the price. He gets Kou’s card and begs him to wait until tomorrow, when they both have time to talk about it.

In Souji’s building, an old lady with tiny round glasses and a red polka-dot scarf around her head sounds on the verge of tears. She’s at the front desk, holding a bowl full of water, which looks like she’ll drop at any moment. Clearing his throat quietly, Yosuke straightens his spine and puts on his Important Detective Guy facade as he approaches the front counter. There’s a mirror right behind the front desk, and Yosuke sees the lady’s name on the clerk’s computer screen—Yosuke greets his darling grandmother Shiroku and casts a slightly accusatory look at the clerk, asking if there’s a problem, here, sir? The clerk begins to explain that she hasn’t filled out any paperwork for pets. Yosuke sighs. He says he’ll meet Shiroku upstairs, pulling out his wallet to ‘find the key,’ very obviously flashing his ID. The clerk jumps, says Shiroku can have a few days to fill out the paperwork—and, with another glance from Yosuke, he even offers to help her with it. Yosuke carries Shiroku’s fish upstairs as she babbles out how thankful she is, how much she cares for her darling Akihiko (the fish?) and what a lovely young man he is. 

Finally, he makes it to Souji’s apartment. He knocks, then rocks back on his heels and drags his hands down his face.  _ What an afternoon,  _ he thinks,  _ and the party hasn’t even started yet.  _

Souji answers the door with the fond smile that Yosuke’s never seen him share with anyone else but his cats, the one that awakens all those butterflies in his stomach and sends them flapping like wild. His boyfriend mentions that he’s a little bit late.

Yeah. If half an hour is considered ‘a little.’ Souji blows a kiss to his cats and hurries Yosuke back down the hall, Yosuke trying to explain everything that happened all the while. 

Souji pays for a taxi, so they wait a few minutes for one to pick them up. Once in the car, Souji turns to Yosuke with a thoughtful expression (more so than usual, anyway). 

“Do you do things like that often?” Souji asks.

“Like what, helping people out?” Yosuke replies, tilting his head. “I guess. If I see someone that I could probably help a little, then I’m gonna do it. It’s, y’know, common sense, or whatever.”

Souji shakes his head. “No, not many people would do that. Not to that extent.” He looks down at his hands in his lap. “Even I’ve ignored people I could have easily helped. But you knew you’d be late to meet me, and did all that anyway.”

Yosuke shrugs. He adjusts his tie. “I guess. It’s not like it’s a big deal.” 

Souji reaches across the gap between them and rests his hand on Yosuke’s. “I think it is,” he says. “You do this sort of thing all the time, don’t you? And you never mention it to anyone, because you don’t think it’s a big deal?” He squeezes his hand. “That’s a… that’s a really beautiful thing, Yosuke. To think that you believe I’m better than you.”

Yosuke desperately wants to kiss him. 

The taxi stops. 

They climb out, and Souji pays the driver while Yosuke stares in awe at the house (mansion?!) in front of them, because  _ holy shit,  _ the place is  _ huge.  _ Souji seems unaffected, simply smiling at Yosuke, taking his hand as he leads him to the front door. 

“Wait, wait wait wait, wait, wait,” Yosuke gasps, digging a heel into the grass they’re crossing. He didn’t need to add those extra five ‘wait’s, as Souji stopped the moment the first word left his lips, but Yosuke’s one of many words. “I dunno if I can do this, Souji. This seems like kinda a big deal.” 

Souji turns, steps so he’s standing close in front of him. “It isn’t, not really,” he says softly. “It’s a casual get-together of coworkers and some plus-ones to acknowledge that a long-time staff member is leaving. That’s it. I’ll be there, Rise’ll be there, Naoto’ll be there, Teddie… I don’t know if Kanji invited Teddie, but he might be here. You won’t be alone, okay? And if you ever feel too uncomfortable, just text me, and we can go. I don’t want to push you.”

Yosuke gives a shaky smile, and pecks Souji on the lips. “Thanks, partner.” 

They head inside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this chap's short but i want the staff party to be uninterrupted in the next chapter so that's what that is  
> also i feel like? yosuke doesn't get enough appreciation? yoosk's a good guy and hell that kid would go above and beyond that fckin shrine fox's sidequests & u know it


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party, and introductions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [uses title of fic in fic] im gonna nut

A man with a gaunt face and a gaze down his nose is the one to answer the door, but his greeting is warm and friendly. His way of speech is formal, even to his friends and (former?) coworkers. 

When Yosuke shakes hands with him, his grip is almost as firm as Naoto’s. He smiles. “You must be the Detective Yosuke Hanamura I’ve heard so much about,” he says. “Feel free to call me Inoue.”

“O-oh. Yeah.”  _ That I’ve heard so much about? Souji’s talked about him?  _ “Um, just Yosuke is fine. I’m only a detective when I’ve got files in my hand, ha.”  _ Damn it, Yosuke, that sounded stupid as hell, why did you say that? Are you just trying to make a fool of yourself? _

Souji uses his incredible people skills to maneuver them away from the front of the main hall, toward a library/study-ish room. As they’re inching their way away from Inoue and into the other room, another man approaches them. 

“Didn’t take you for a party person, kid,” he says, voice gruff. His eyes are deep-set and his face is scruffy, and he looks incredibly familiar—

“Holy  _ shit,  _ Detective Dojima?” Yosuke blurts, right when Souji is about to reply. 

The two men turn to him, both surprised and, in the older man’s case, a bit bemused. “Haven’t heard that in a while… do I know you from somewhere?”

“U-um, my name is Yosuke Hanamura, I grew up in Inaba. I babysat your daughter, uh, Nanako? That’s her name, right? You wrote my recommendation letter for university!”

Recognition dawns in his dark eyes, and he leans back, looking Yosuke over completely. “I’ll be damned. Yosuke Hanamura.” He reaches out and clasps Yosuke’s forearm in a tight shake. “And what a man you’ve grown up to be! How’s your old man?”

Yosuke shrugs. “We kinda lost contact after I left home for school,” he admits. “But I’m sure he’s doing just fine, ruining Inaba’s small-town economy.”

“C’mon, kid, shouldn’t you show your pop some respect?” Dojima laughs. “But hey, you’ve got every right to be pissed at the guy. Hardly gave you free time between the work he had you do and your own part time jobs, huh?”

“Babysitting Nanako was basically my free time,” he says. “Really though, it was fine. She was the best. How is she, anyway?”

Souji steps right between them, glancing back and forth in confusion. “You both sound so familiar with each other?” Technically, it’s a statement, but the tone is that of a question, so Yosuke answers it.

“He lived in Inaba. I spent like, my whole angsty teenage life there. The letter of recommendation Dojima wrote is probably the only thing that got me outta there at all.” 

“This is the ‘intimidating but awesome’ guy you mentioned?” Souji asks, as if he still can’t process what’s happening. 

Dojima puffs his chest. “Intimidating but awesome? Sounds about right. You got the observation skills down, Hanamura.” He leans over a little and stage whispers: “So, what’d you do to get this one talking that much, huh? You didn’t get him drunk, did you?”

Yosuke blinks. “What? What do you mean? He’s hardly spoken.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yosuke sees Souji blushing as Dojima says, “There’ve been nights when I can count on my fingers the amount of words Mr. Seta here’s spoken. Must be something about you.” 

“Yes,” Souji replies, and Yosuke is too busy looking around at other party-goers to see the other’s soft smile. “There’s certainly something.”

Someone calls to Dojima across the room, and he tells them to have fun (they both ignore his wink) as he answers them. Souji shakes his head, as if still in awe about what just happened. He glances at Yosuke, blinks, then takes him by the hand and leads him down the hall, to what must be the living room. There, Yosuke spots Teddie, his lapel rose replaced with a red and yellow bowtie, chatting with a group of people Yosuke mostly doesn’t recognize. He does spot Naoto, with Rise on their arm.

Teddie, while laughing at something that a girl with short hair said, sees Souji and Yosuke between heads of the guests, and waves them over (‘waves’ being an understatement, as what really happened involved Teddie’s arm flapping in the air and someone’s head being whacked by it multiple times). 

“Yo, Souji!” the short-haired girl greets him, and her beaming grin broadens when she shifts her gaze to Yosuke. “And  _ you  _ must be Yosuke, huh?” 

“Um, yeah,” he says, because that’s probably a better introduction than he would have been able to give. 

Luckily, Souji saves him from that hell-that-could-have-been; he puts a hand on Yosuke’s arm and tells the group, “This is Yosuke Hanamura. He moved here when Naoto hired him.”

All look to the individual, who nods. “He’s the best cold-case detective the department has seen,” they say. 

“He works with Naoto in their office,” Rise adds. “To make a guess, I’d say his job is like, 60% detective, 35% mumbling to himself on the office floor, and 5% being a total dork about Souji.”

Yosuke’s about to fake a laugh and proceed to hide in the bathroom, because the first joke the group makes is about him, and they’re laughing at him, and this is the same as high school and college parties, he should have known it wouldn’t be any different— 

“Better than Souji!” the tall, aggressive-looking blond man grunts, jabbing a thumb at the man. “I’ve heard kids talkin’ all about how  _ ‘ooh, Mr. Seta has a date, he keeps fussin’ in the mirror!’  _ and  _ ‘ooh, Mr. Seta kept textin’ durin’ the movie we watched, he was all smiley, he was totally talkin’ to his boyfriend!’ _ ” He shakes his head. “Lots of broken hearts now that you have a partner, Souji, lemme tell ya. Girls all in distress. Their friends tellin’ ‘em that hey, he’s gay anyway, it’s whatever, but he’s  _ soooo cuuute!, _ and they’ve  _ gotta  _ see who’s taken ‘im.” 

The woman beside the short-haired one, her cascade of black hair tied back with a red bow, snorts with laughter in a sound that’s the opposite of the petite giggle Yosuke would have expected. “Y-your girly voice!” she snickers. “It-it’s always! Ha! Always the best!” 

“I do girly better than your girlfriend does,” he shoots back, to which the short-haired girl shouts something about how she cuts steak into smaller pieces now and doesn’t talk with her mouth full that much anymore.

Yosuke’s wide eyes dart to and fro between them all, astounded that any of them can keep up with the conversation. It isn’t even a conversation, really, just bits of a handful of conversations picked up and tossed around their group like some sort of bizarre vocal hot-potato. Perhaps he could have followed if he wasn’t still processing the fact that the joke Rise made wasn’t at his expense at all, nor was the light laughter that followed it. Judging by the current discussion they’re having, they all make jokes like that, and are all on both the giving and the receiving end just as frequently as any other. It’s obvious how good of friends they are, and how close, and it almost makes Yosuke want to back out and let them have their time, their party.

Until the short-haired woman throws her hands out as if clearing them all away from something and says, “We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet!” She frowns, pointing sternly at Yosuke, who blinks in surprise at the sudden attention. “ _ You  _ need to be more assertive! You’ve hardly said a word and you just let us all go babbling on without including you, and without you knowing our names!” 

“Don’t say that like you’re accusing him,” the long-haired woman says, a dainty hand on the other’s shoulder to calm her. She looks up at Yosuke. “I’m Yukiko Amagi. I run the local day care.”

“I help her a lot!” Teddie adds proudly, puffing out his chest. 

“And I’m Chie Satonaka! Yukiko’s my fiance!” The short-haired woman holds up her hand and displays a thin gold band on her finger. “I’m the high school gym teacher, and I coach the gymnastics and the track teams!” 

“Unfortunately, her braggin’ ain’t for nothing. They end up in the state finals just about every year,” says the tall blond. He points a thumb into his chest. “Kanji Tatsumi. I’m a teacher. Electives and stuff.”

“And also my boyfriend!” Teddie jumps up, wrapping his arms around Kanji’s shoulders and his legs around his abdomen. “He thinks I’m cute!”

“Whatever!” Kanji snaps, but his face is bright pink and, when he looks away, he’s grinning. 

“Why d’ya say ‘unfortunately?’” Chie asks, planting her hands on her hips and leaning forward. 

“Maybe it’s ‘cause ya never stop talking about your goddamn teams!” Kanji groans, rolling his eyes. “And ya play favorites in your classes ‘cause of it!” 

Chie gasps. It’s melodramatic, but Yosuke doesn’t point it out. “Ex _ cuse  _ me? I do  _ not  _ play favorites! I play dodgeball! There’s no favorites in dodgeball!”

“She’s right,” Yosuke agrees. “Just like there’s no crying in baseball. It’s a cardinal rule.”

A few others nod, almost sagely, in agreement. Finally. Something Yosuke has in common with the rest of them. They all agree: there’s no favorites in dodgeball. It’s hardly anything at all, but he’ll take it. Especially when Souji laughs, more than just a light chuckle under his breath, and the entire group practically gapes at Yosuke as if the glass of champagne in Rise’s hand had been water a few seconds ago and he’d been the one to make the change. 

After a while, they’re all seated around a coffee table, with the three girls and nonbinary individual on the couch, Teddie perched on the arm of the chair Kanji is sitting in, and Souji and Yosuke on the floor, holding hands under the table. By this point, about half the group has gone through a little more than their fair share of champagne, leaving them tipsy at best. Yosuke can’t help but find them all a little ridiculous, the way a few glasses too many of alcohol has made them. To his delight, it seems as though his boyfriend, too, is a lightweight. Yeah, Teddie had told him one or two stories about some drunken endeavors, but witnessing it for himself? Totally different, and totally better.

For the fifth time in ten minutes, Souji leans against Yosuke and says, “Have I told you yet that you look absolutely incredible tonight?”

Yosuke has to force himself not to laugh, looking up at Naoto for help. They are, however, already occupied by their own date’s alcohol-induced flirtatiousness, and can only manage to spare him an identical SOS glance. Ah, so they’re both screwed (meant figuratively, but Yosuke wouldn’t be against literally). 

Yosuke settles on wrapping an arm around Souji’s shoulders so he doesn’t sway as much and chides, “You shouldn’t have drank so much, Partner. You’re a grown man. Don’t you know your own limit?”

Souji rests his head on Yosuke’s shoulder and nuzzles—literally fucking  _ nuzzles,  _ good god—against Yosuke’s neck. “Don’t normally drink,” he murmurs, lips brushing against his skin and sending a shiver up Yosuke’s spine.

“He really doesn’t,” Kanji says, catching Teddie before he slips off the chair without looking. “Seta, like, never drinks.”

“You seem to bring out another side of him,” Naoto concurs, face red as they pointedly ignore Rise’s kisses on their cheek and jaw. “He’s a very reserved man, but part of me isn’t all too surprised that you’re the one to help him branch out.”

“Really?” Yosuke looks down at the man that seems to be beginning to doze on his shoulder. “Huh. I used to be like that, too, in college and stuff. Didn’t really socialize much.” He laughs a little to himself. “‘Course, not many people  _ wanted  _ to socialize with me, so. Kinda made that lifestyle easier for me.”

“That kinda surprises me,” Rise says, finally turning to face the group again. Naoto breathes a little sigh of relief. “You’ve always, y’know, seemed the kinda… the kinda type to like people lots. Or. Y’know. For people to like you lots. ‘Cause, like, since I met you, back, uh, in princet’s office, I just kinda, thought you were cool. Ish. Not really. You’re not cool. I lied.” 

“Rise,” Naoto chides, “you don’t have to be embarrassed. Yosuke is, if I’m to be candid, a pretty cool guy.” They cast a small smile his way. 

This has Yosuke in shock, staring wide-eyed at the two. “Wh—for real? You think I’m cool?”

“You’re  _ ice cold,  _ babe,” Souji mumbles, snaking his arms around his waist and kissing his shoulder. “Frigid. Tundra’s got nothin’ on you.”

“Shut up, you’re drunk,” Yosuke grumbles, for lack of anything else to say. Because he has absolutely no idea what to say in this situation. He’s… he’s literally never, ever been called cool before. Ever. Not even by his mom. Probably because he _isn’t_ cool. He acts like it, yeah, pretends he knows he’s all that, but he _knows_ he’s not. Maybe they’re just trying to make him feel more comfortable in the group? But, no, Naoto doesn’t lie, and Naoto knows Rise like the back of their hand (which they see often, considering all the typing and writing they do), so they’d know when she’s lying. They… they genuinely think he’s cool.

“ _ I  _ don’t think you’re that cool,” Chie speaks up, twirling a strand of the sleeping Yukiko’s hair around her finger. “You’re, I dunno, lukewarm, at best.”

“Ignore her,” Kanji cuts in, speaking around Teddie’s hair, due to the fact the latter is now on his lap and leaning back against him. “Chie doesn’t think anything is cool.”

“False!” she hisses, voice low so her fiancé doesn’t awaken. “I think lots of things are cool. Dragons, for one. Judo. Sick kickboard tricks.” 

“Shhhh,” Yukiko murmurs, dragging her fingers down Chie’s face. “Shhhhh. He’s cool. Shh.” 

This is getting to be a little much. This many compliments at much, this much insistence? Yosuke’s not used to this. And he apparently can’t handle it, not quite yet, because his heart is threatening to break through his ribs and the way his lungs are desperate to hyperventilate isn’t helping matters, either. So he stutters out a “Th-thanks, guys,” and then babbles something about needing to take Souji home, get him water, food, sleep. Rise, Teddie, and Kanji say that he should stay a little while longer, but Naoto mentions the time, and that he’s being perfectly reasonable, don’t force him to stay if he doesn’t want to stay, you pushy fools. Yosuke mouths a silent thanks to them, receiving a nod in return as he helps Souji up and half-carries the sleepy man toward the door. Yosuke thanks Inoue for hosting a fun evening, wishes him the best of luck and a pleasant retirement as the man in question holds open the door for him and Souji. He points out a taxi he’d called a few minutes ago and paid extra to wait for a guest to need it, gracious host that he is, and hands Yosuke some cash to cover the fare home. Yosuke insists on paying him back, but he denies, shooing the pair out the door. 

What a night. 

As soon as they’re in the taxi, Yosuke heaves a heavy sigh, showing the driver the address in Souji’s contact information on his phone and giving him the time to type it into the GPS before it’s passed back to him. He takes the opportunity to text Naoto another thanks, and tell them that they were already in a taxi home. They reply quickly, thanking him for informing them. He doesn’t reply to that, because he knows nothing else needs to be said, and that Naoto isn’t one for unnecessary words. 

At Souji’s apartment complex, Yosuke digs Souji’s key out from the pocket of his jacket and lets them in, whispering hello to his cats and then heading to the bedroom so he can ease Souji from under his arm onto the mattress. He then goes to the kitchen to pour some water, goes to the bathroom to grab some painkillers, places both on the counter because the cats won’t stop rubbing against his legs and purring and he has  _ no choice  _ but to pet them. Ten minutes and two lint roller sheets later, Yosuke makes his way back into Souji’s room to place the hangover helpers on his nightstand.

Souji grabs his wrist, very suddenly and with surprising strength for one that had been dozing only moments ago, and yanks him down onto the bed. Yosuke yelps, landing on top of Souji and then rolling to the side with momentum. He’s left blinking at the dark ceiling, wondering what exactly just happened, Souji cuddling against his side. ‘Cuddling’ being a loose term for ‘clinging.’ Yosuke doubts possible escape, especially when his boyfriend murmurs for him to stay the night.

“I should really go home,” Yosuke whispers, trying to extract himself. “I’ll probably need to take care of hungover Teddie.”

“Kanji’ll do it,” Souji mumbles. “You have to take care of a hungover me.” He kisses Yosuke’s jugular, and Yosuke’s certain that he can feel his racing pulse against his lips. 

“Are you sure?” he finally asks, after a few moments of internal argument.

Souji nods. “I wanna talk to you a little. Tell you things.”

“You can do that tomorrow,” Yosuke points out, only to be hushed.

“I won’t want to tomorrow. I don’t really like talking about this.”

“All the more reason you should tell me tomorrow, when you’re not tipsy.”

A pause. “My parents weren’t around much. Worked a lot. But when they were, they were constantly pressuring me to study, to join extracurriculars, to work part-time, intern, all that. It was like they cared more about my success than they did me, their son, a person.” He hugs Yosuke closer. “I swore, when I moved out, that I’d never be like that. That I’d be an influence to kids that wasn’t all success this, future that. That enjoying your youth is enough, put yourself first, school and clubs and work second, because you’re only a kid once. I refuse to let kids’ childhoods go wasted the way mine did.” He sighs. “When Dojima mentioned that your parents were kind of the same way as mine, I just… I couldn’t  _ not  _ tell you anymore.” 

Yosuke can’t think of anything to say to that. He runs gentle fingers through Souji’s hair and hopes that’s enough. With the way Souji relaxes, as if he’d been tense that whole time, he knows it is. They stay like that for a while, lying in each other’s arms, Yosuke idly playing with Souji’s hair, before Yosuke finally speaks.

“I’m glad you told me.” He kisses the top of Souji’s head, ruffling his hair a little. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Souji’s already more than half asleep, now, and it’s evident in his voice when he says, “When we adopt a kid, we’re gonna raise them right.”

Yosuke chokes. Splutters. Manages to say, “Y-yeah, we sure will, partner,” and buries his face in silver hair. He forces himself to calm down. 

“I love you,” Souji breathes.

“I love you, too,” Yosuke replies, just before both of their breathing evens out in the gentle pattern of sleep.

Yosuke dreams of waking up to Souji’s pancakes, Souji’s good-morning kiss, and a small, faceless child’s grin. 

**Author's Note:**

> weeks later i've decided that this is a pretty good place to end it and i don't even know what else i'd include so uh. yeah. adachi never even made an appearance. good. fuck that guy
> 
> consider [buying me a coffee](http://ko-fi.com/ryuuzaou) or hitting me up on [the hellsite](http://todoiizuku.tumblr.com)


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